Strygwyr
by Tanicus Caesareth
Summary: The adventures of everyone's favorite blood hound on the mid lane. May or may not have more chapters added later. Rated T for violence.


_Thirty seconds._

The sounds of tribal drumbeats pounded in Strygwyr's head as his pawed feet padded down mid lane. The vicious snarls and laughter of The Twins echoed in his mind, the visions of the great feast he would provide for them staining his imagination a bloody red.

_Ten seconds remaining._

Strygwyr pulled his lips into an unsavory grin as he trotted down to the river, his paws padding over the black, cracked stones that made up the Dire territory. From beneath the rim of his ceremonial helm, he saw Invoker sauntering down his respective lane, his robes swaying with the gentle afternoon breeze. The Arsenal Magus' confidence quickly drained as he saw the trusted hound of the Flayed ones standing just across the river. He quickly halted before the shallow, lapping water of the stream that separated the two factions.

Strygwyr licked his lips before pulling them into an even tighter grin, baring his razor-sharp teeth. He dragged the edges of his blades against each other, creating a shower of sparks. Invoker stumbled backwards, quivering in fear. He quickly shook his head and stood upright, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "_The thing can probably smell fear,"_ he thought to himself.

_The battle begins._

Each team's respective Lane Creeps marched their way down to the river where they did battle. Strygwyr quickly dashed from creep to creep, last hitting and denying like a madman. Invoker shook his head and rubbed his temples. The hound's constant frantic flurrying of motion was starting to give him a headache. Strygwyr, feeling particularly daring, dashed over to the Radiant's side of the river and finished off a ranged creep that was perched at the edge of the water. The resulting splash of blood splattered against Invoker, staining his white mage robes a deep blood red. He grinded his teeth and grumbled to himself.

"Enough is enough!" he shouted, not to let himself be bested by such an unrefined mutt. He chucked a magic projectile at Strygwyr, singing his pelt and leaving a small welt on his tanned flesh. The Bloodseeker stumbled backwards, but quickly regained his footing. Strygwyr growled viciously, his blood boiling.

"What's the matter, pooch? Don't like the sting of my sorcery, do you? Well, you're definitely not going to like this," Invoker taunted smugly. "Now, go fetch!" Invoker raised his hands to the sky, laughing maliciously as a fiery energy crackled from his fingertips. Suddenly, a giant, flaming meteor fell from the heavens, burning all in its path. Strygwyr broke into a run, shoving himself past the creeps and up his side of the river. The meteor was still hot on his heels, and quite literally.

Strygwyr was not quick enough. The fiery ball of death bulldozed him, scorching him and melting his flesh. Strygwyr screamed in agony as the meteor crumbled into a pile of molten rock atop him, sending out a thick cloud of ash. Invoker smiled smugly and chuckled to himself, thinking he had finally beat the hound of the Flayed Ones. He was ever so wrong.

Invoker slowly promenaded over to Strygwyr's limp, charred body, pushing the protesting lane creeps aside. "Hark, the Flayed Twin's faithful has fallen," he said with a sneer, giving the hound a swift kick in the side. "Who shall collect blood for the Twins now?" Another kick. Strygwyr's eyes flashed a violent red from beneath his helm.

"Rrrrrraaaauuuuuuugh!" Strygwyr yowled viciously as he stood upright, his fury burning within him. He violently shook out the bits of igneous rock that clung to his pelt as he threw his helmet to the ground. Invoker stumbled backwards, terrified by the fury and dread that haunted the seeker's glare. His eyes twitched and radiated a bright crimson, like the clouds that lingered around the blood-shrouded peaks of his homeland. He shakily took up his blades, wrapping his stubby fingers around their coarse leather-bound handles. He slowly dragged the edges against each other, creating a shrill, ear-piercing screech. Strygwyr zombishly walked forward. Invoker froze in horror. Strygwyr was under the effects of Blood Rage.

With a deep, throaty roar, Strygwyr hacked at the air with his blades, making a tearing motion. Invoker collapsed, now feeling immense pain. He tried to crawl away. His flesh began to peel away from his bones in chunks, spilling his own blood on the cold, stony ground. His efforts of escape were futile, and only made his situation worse. He had been Ruptured.

Smiling and laughing maniacally to himself, Strygwyr barked out a ritual chant to The Twins. Within moments, an intricate pattern of blood materialized on the ground around Invoker. Panicking, he unsteadily stood himself up, attempting to hobble himself out of the radius of Strygwyr's Blood Rite. Realising that he was only doing more damage to himself, Invoker quickly attempted to cast his Forge Spirits in a last-hope attempt to stop his attacker. It was too late. The ground bursted with a flurry of boiling blood, silencing and damaging Invoker. He fell to his knees, the pain from his predicament being too much for him to bear.

"The power of your mind… Cannot help you now," Strygwyr said through heavy breathing and clenched teeth. "The Flayed Ones will pucker when they drink of your blood."

"N-no! Please! I am millennia of knowledge, condensed into human form! You cannot kill me!" Invoker pleaded, his breaths shallow and pained.

"My gods thirst," Strygwyr said in a flat tone. "And I shouldn't keep them waiting." Strygwyr raised his blade over his head.

"_Nooooo!" _Invoker screamed.

A stab. A slash. A splatter. Invoker's lifeless body was sprawled out across the cold, hard ground, the last of his blood slowly seeping from him.

"First blood. The Twins shall not thirst for long."


End file.
